Taxi To Paris Part 6

I only now realized how much of a gift she had given me by going out to dinner. Hopefully she flew to Paris as often as possible - no one could put up with this for long!

She had chosen the exit that was closest to her apartment. She would probably bo going directly there. I was going to lose sight of her soon if I didn't hurry up. Those long legs!

As I got closer, I saw the reactions of the people who crossed her path. Some stared shamelessly at her. A couple of women ignored her so ostentatiously that I a.s.sumed they were clients of hers. She walked with a stiff back. She was getting close to home.

What should I do? As soon as she got to her building, there would be nothing left for me to do. I ducked into an alleyway that I knew intersected with the main street again several yards ahead. I ran. Panting, I rounded the corner. I'd caught up with her precisely. I almost ran into her.

Her backpack slipped. Oh, s.h.i.+t - the champagne! I reached for it quickly. Just before it hit the ground, we both caught the bag. Only then did she recognize me. Her face went blank.

"Thank you, ma'am," she said.

Ah! She wanted to act as though she didn't know me. Like she did with her clients. You aren't going to get rid of me that easily!

"You're very welcome," I replied. "How are you?" She was in the middle of straightening herself out and stopped dead in her tracks. She stood rather crookedly.

"That's not good for your back," I observed helpfully.

She finally stood up straight. She looked at me as though she were rather distressed. I acted as though I didn't notice. I had to get it right this time. She wouldn't be giving me a second chance.

"Would you like to have coffee?" I offered, as if we were old friends who'd just run into each other around town. "At my place?" I added with emphasis.

She still looked quite distressed. This was the chance I'd been hoping for. I decided to act. "Fine." I exhaled. I had to collect myself first. Then I pointed in the direction of my street. "I live right over there." I turned to the left. "Are you coming?"

She actually did. She walked right behind me, mostly staring straight ahead but once looking in my direction with the confusion of a deer caught in headlights. If I could just get her into my apartment quickly, everything would be all right.

What would be all right? At some point, she was going to get her wits about her again. I should just have myself lobotomized and be done with it. Leave me in peace! I protested silently.

She was still following me like a little lamb when I opened the front door. I turned to face her. "I'm afraid there's no elevator," I said apologetically. "It's an old building." I didn't get the impression that that interested her in the slightest. I started up the steps. Four stories! Why hadn't I decided to live on the ground floor?

By the time we got to my floor, the tension in my body was almost unbearable. I gasped for air, and not just from climbing the stairs. She was breathing quietly, as if four flights were nothing to her. She must be in great shape. No wonder, with her job - she'd have to stay fit! Shh, be quiet!

After I'd shut the door to my apartment behind us, I let myself exhale. We'd made it! "To the left," I directed. "In the kitchen."

She went on ahead of me. She must still be deep in shock. She still wasn't quite all there. Most likely, she'd planned on never seeing me again - and certainly not so suddenly.

I motioned to my rocking chair - the only piece of furniture that I never usually gave up for a guest. "Have a seat," I said softly. "I'll make some coffee."

She sat down. I filled the kettle with water and set it on the burner. I was starting to get a little worried. She'd have to react to something eventually. I went over to her and took her bag. She just let me take it. "The champagne should probably go in the refrigerator, don't you think?" I offered congenially. Oh, d.a.m.n!

Exactly - that woke her up! "Champagne?" she said. "How do you know that I bought champagne?" Her eyes, as they probed my face, were getting some life back in them.

I tried to brush it off and act harmless. "I looked in the bag."

"No, you didn't," she countered firmly. It seems she'd been with it enough to follow that much.

"Right." I was going to have to come clean. If she got up and left now, there would be nothing I could do to stop her. "I saw you at the grocery store."

"But I didn't see you." She obviously had no idea why not, and was trying to figure out how she would have missed me.

"No," I said.

Her face hardened into a mask. "You were watching me," she concluded icily.

Oh, G.o.d, I was never going to get her to open up this way! "Completely by accident," I said to pardon myself. "You were crossing the street, and I was sitting over at the cafe." At least she shouldn't think that I'd been watching her for any length of time. "I saw you go into the supermarket..."

"And so you just followed me in," she finished soberly.

I could no longer be so calm with her. "Yes, dammit!" I exploded. "I wanted to see you again! Is that so hard to understand?"

"You could've called me," she suggested, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And make an appointment with you?" Oh no, not again! Why couldn't I just keep my big mouth shut?

"For instance." She underlined her unequivocal coldness, even more than before, with disinterested calmness. She would not be provoked. Instead, she examined her fingernails absently.

I could've bawled. Why had I done that? I knew perfectly well how she reacted to attention. She was used to it. She walled herself off to it and became unreachable. I looked at her. I couldn't take it anymore. "I -" love you, I finished in my head. I walked over to her, bent down, and kissed her. She opened her lips automatically and let me in. It was a terrible feeling. That's how it must be when she let her clients kiss her! I pulled back and straightened.

"You could've had that, too," she said, completely unaffected. "You didn't have to ambush me on the street."

The teakettle started to whistle. I turned around and shut it off. I'd done everything wrong! Now I really would have to go to her as a client if I wanted to see her. She'd never allow me more. a.s.suming she'd even allow me that. I stood with my back to her. I couldn't look at her now. I leaned against the stove. "Please -" I said. Not a sound. I turned on one heel. She was sitting exactly as before. All the feelings I had for her overwhelmed me at once. "I yearn for you," I said desperately.

"I understand," she answered unconcernedly. "Where is your bed?"

"No - please - don't do that to me!" I wanted to scream, but I could only manage a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"Do what to you? I thought you wanted to sleep with me." She was the cool professional again, the wh.o.r.e.

Yes. Yes, I wanted that. But with her, not with this soulless body. I collapsed inside. "I can't." I felt completely burned out.

"Then I can go." She took her bag, stood up, and went to the door. I followed her. She turned the k.n.o.b.

"I love you," I said.

For the second time that day, she stopped dead in her tracks. I repeated, "I love you."

Slowly, she let go of the doork.n.o.b. "No," she whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Yes," I restated quietly. "I can't help it."

Now nothing mattered to me anymore. I went up to her, embraced her from behind, and pulled her tight to me. "I love you, I love you, I love you!"

I was so happy that I could finally say it. Even if this had to be the last time.

"You can't do that," she said, just as softly as before.

"Yes, I can," I insisted. "Not even you can forbid me that."

She jerked. I thought she was going to cry, but I didn't hear a sound. I snuggled up against her one more time, then let her go. If she wanted to leave, there was no way for me to stop her.

She didn't move. We stood there so completely motionless that we could hear the clock ticking all the way in the kitchen.

I turned to face her. "That's not possible." The pressure I'd brought to bear on her was apparent in her face. "I'm a -". Contrary to her usual habit, she didn't say the word aloud.

"I know what you are. And I didn't just find out today." I took a deep breath. "It doesn't bother me." Whether or not that was true wasn't something I wanted to test just now. "And it certainly won't stop me from loving you. Whether you like it or not." So, it was out! Either she'd go or she'd stay. I had to leave that up to her.

She fought with herself. She knew she'd have to leave now if she were to put an end to all of this. I didn't dare consider whether she loved me, or would ever love me. But I could be certain that she liked me. At least that was a start.

"I can't concern myself with those feelings," she explained. She'd gotten hold of herself again. She did seem somewhat discomfited, but distant at the same time. "I don't know what to do with them. Please don't ask that of me."

"I'm not asking anything of you," I a.s.sured her, as calmly as possible. I knew she wasn't being cruel on purpose. She was just trying to protect herself. "But is it so terrible to be loved?"

"It's threatening," she said, momentarily more open than I'd expected. "It scares me."

Love scared her? Why? I knew from my own experience that this kind of attention could seem oppressive coming from some women. I'd probably been guilty of that sometimes myself. But I also knew that nothing had happened between the two of us that even came close to that kind of situation. So the reason had to come from her past. Of course, I couldn't change anything about that. The only thing I could do was to treat her as gently and lovingly as I was able, in order to show her that things could go differently. But first she'd have to let me close enough to do that!

"Am I threatening to you?" I asked directly. She was such a master of evasion, no other route seemed likely to get me anywhere. But I was afraid of the answer as well.

"You win," she said. That could mean anything in the world.

Chapter 10.

The days went by like a dream. She simply stayed with me. Once, over breakfast, I asked her if she didn't need to go back to her apartment. "No," she said. "I'm officially in Paris."

"But you've never even..." She'd neither made a telephone call nor left my apartment.

"I didn't have to tell anyone. It was already scheduled." She looked at me mischievously. "Before you kidnapped me."

The memory was embarra.s.sing. I blushed.

She kissed me on the mouth quite familiarly and looked me in the eye. "I'm grateful to you for that." Grat.i.tude wasn't exactly what I was looking for from her, but... Without my encouragement, she went right for another diversion. "And clothes, it seems, are not necessary - am I right?"

That was true. She embarra.s.sed me all over again. We spent almost 24 hours a day in bed. I s.h.i.+vered with pleasure. Then I said, regretfully, "Too bad I have to go back to work tomorrow."

She bit into a roll. "I have to work on Monday myself," she said, completely unintentionally.

I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. The whole time she'd been here, I'd never once thought about that. "You have to go back to work?"

She looked at me without thinking. "But of course. My vacation is over, too."

I just hadn't been prepared for that. Sure, she had her profession and I mine. And we'd both taken a vacation.

"Don't look so sad," she said comfortingly. "You'll still have time in the evenings. And I'm usually free then, too."

Just like I'd thought: love in the morning was her specialty. I pulled myself together. I'd known this all along. If I'd put it out of my mind, that was my own fault. I agreed reluctantly. "Yeah. We can get together in the evening."

She came over to me and looked at me lovingly. "But we've only just..." I said, although her face was already bringing my insides to a boil.

"Yes." She was already at my mouth. "But I have to make up two years."

I had to laugh. I still couldn't quite believe that. Her kiss became more urgent. I rose against her. "No," she said, "stay in your chair."

I sank back. She leaned over me. Her hand lay gently on my shoulder, and she kissed me with every ounce of tenderness she could muster. Her kisses were absolutely incredible. I didn't think that was a consequence of her job. It had to be natural talent. Such things just couldn't be learned.

When she pulled back for a moment, I said, "I love it when you kiss me like that. Sometimes, I never want it to stop. I've always been partial to kissing, but with you, I've become completely addicted to it."

This type of compliment could always make her uneasy. Now was no exception. "We could just kiss, if that's what you want," she said. She didn't seem terribly excited by the prospect, but she'd offered it immediately. I'd have to be more careful with what I said. If it sounded like an honest wish, she would offer to fulfill it instantly. The woman of my wildest dreams! Now I knew that that could also be fatal.

This time, I teased her about it a little. "Yes," I suggested. "That's a good idea."

She seemed disappointed, but as always, she put her own wishes aside. "Yes," she said.

I batted my eyelashes innocently at her. "May I choose the place for it?"

There was a slight delay before she figured it out. "You lying dog!" she grumbled, almost lovingly, as she bent back down over me.

The sweetness of her kisses was simply indescribable. When I could no longer stand the tension, I pushed her hands down over my body and between my legs. She let them hang there, motionless. "Do you want it now?" she asked sensuously.

"Yes," I moaned, at the very edge of sanity. She did nothing. "Please -" I said urgently.

"Do you really want it?" she asked again. Something stirred in the back of my mind, but I could no longer think. She had something in mind. The presence of her tongue in my mouth robbed me of all conscious thought.

"Yes," I moaned again. "Please do it."

She pushed into me with two fingers. I yelped with surprise and tightened. Her fingers remained inside me, motionless. "You're very wet," she said. "It doesn't hurt." She began to move her fingers very carefully - very gently, and without rhythm. "Just the opposite - it feels good." She did everything to take away my fear. Her voice calmed me. And she was right.

At first, I didn't feel anything at all. Then, she stroked a spot just inside the entrance. That sent an intense feeling of warmth through my body. My arousal had disappeared from fright, but now, she stroked me gently back to the top again. When I began to move against her with more and more desire, she carefully pushed back. I tightened up again, but only for a moment. She repeated the motion until I'd gotten used to it again. Now I felt nothing but pure l.u.s.t. I pushed against her, trying to take as much of her in as I possibly could. She matched my rhythm. I felt like she was completely inside me. She knew better than I did what I wanted. When I finally came around her fingers, she sighed. "I knew you could do it." I looked once more into her eyes, then fell asleep.

When I awoke a short time later, I was in bed. She'd carried me over. I didn't remember anything about it. I had, of course, been aware of her strength and had given it a rather negative meaning at the beginning of our acquaintance. But when I thought about it now, it seemed completely improbable that this could be the same woman.

She came in and sat next to me on the bed. "I made coffee," she said. "Would you like some?"

"Would I like what?" I teased.

She scooted herself a bit closer to the edge of the bed, farther from me. "No, no," she said, carefully fending me off. "I'm not on the menu."

She was like that sometimes. In contrast to her professional willingness, she was otherwise rather aloof. To allow oneself to be seduced by her was easy; to seduce her was another story - one that had caused me more than one headache already. First and foremost, she could never have the feeling that I wanted something from her. That often made her switch immediately to "pro" mode. If I gave her the feeling that it was her idea, and it was just "accidental" that she got something out of it, then everything was fine. I understood completely, but it did tend to make things rather tiresome. For that reason, I didn't start teasing her again, but rather asked, "Why did you go and do that?"

Careful, nervous attention crossed her face. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, of course not. You would've noticed that." I looked at her, and felt myself get almost dizzy with love for her. I smiled. "As gentle as you were."

She relaxed again. Mothers were called "overprotective" when they acted like this - could lovers be the same way? I leaned over toward her and kissed her very softly, so she wouldn't get the wrong idea. "You were wonderful," I rea.s.sured her. "And it was very good."